SURVIVOR
April, 1981
MRS. COLLINS:
The police officer stood at the foot of the hospital bed, looking down at the little girl. She was attached to tubes and monitors, and covered by white sheets and a thin green blanket. But she was alive. And she was very lucky to be alive. I sat in a chair near her head, stroking her hair gently. "I need to get a statement from her when she wakes up," the officer informed.
I bowed my head. "The doctors aren't sure how long that might take. Or if she'll be able to talk at all."
"What do you mean?"
I sighed. "The person who did this very narrowly missed her vocal chords. If she can talk at all, she likely won't be able to for quite some time."
The officer sighed and glanced at the guard stationed at the door. "Given the nature of her injuries, we'll continue to watch her," he informed. "But chances are that whoever did this thinks she's dead."
"So that's a good thing," I guessed.
"Yes, it could be. For as long as we can keep the media away, she'll be safe."
I studied the girl, then the man standing over her. "Officer," I started, "somebody performed a tracheotomy to allow her to breathe. Is there any way to find out who...?"
The officer shook his head slowly. "The call came from a pay phone and nobody in the area saw anything. We'll continue to investigate into what might have happened, but we obviously can't make any guarantees."
"Have you identified her yet?"
The man smiled sympathetically. "Mrs. Collins, I'm afraid we can't release any information right now."
I nodded slowly. "I understand."